or: my perceived essence of Ireland
a foreigner journeying amongst roots that are not mine to bare
Being in Ireland, I now understand that there are so many different kinds of rain. They call it “summer”, what’s actually I consider- a winter. They call it warm, but actually it’s cold. you can sit in the sunshine, and it would spray little mists of water on you from the clouds. and the clouds, they see them and say “gray and dense clouds are coming, it’s gonna rain”. but in my homeland, there is never a correlation between the clouds to rain. gray clouds coming from the shore, most of the time, would not mean rain in Israel.